


Guns and Roses

by Killer_x



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Attempted Murder, Attempted Seduction, Crossdressing, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Murderers, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Character Death, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killer_x/pseuds/Killer_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are legends on the road, of monsters in the shape of men. Sometimes they pick up travellers. Sometimes it’s not the travellers who should be wary. Stories are born; warnings for those cautious enough to heed them. Legacies, for the broken ones who follow in their footsteps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. This is not going to be a nice fic. The people depicted are extremely disturbed, so possible trigger warning.  
> Having said that, enjoy.

There was something soothing about the purr of an engine. Something in the constant, steady way the wheels chewed tarmac that set his muscles loose and his breathing slow and deep. The light drizzle of rain, cool in the outside air, shaped a ripple of fog across the windscreen. It was calm weather, but still the kind that made you glad for the gentle puff of central heating, and a barrier of glass between yourself and the outside world.

Still, a cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss, but the last flashing sign had been quite a few miles back, and he was loathe to turn around. Progress was made by always going forward, regret had no place in this philosophy. He chuckled, look at him getting all _introspective._ It was foolish, in a kind of _I should’ve had lamb, not chicken_ way, to examine actions. At least, any actions before the now.

_After all,_ he mused, eyes narrowing at a lithe figure in the distance, _the now is when the magic happens._

_Xxx_

The car was fried, completely and totally busted. Or at least it should be, with all the time he’d spent dismantling the damn thing. The smoke was a nice touch, if a little dramatic. But, if you couldn’t appreciate the small things in life, well, it wasn’t worth living, _was it_.

His ears pricked at a sound in the distance, and he turned his head to squint in the direction of the horizon. It looked like a ute, well kept, and somewhere on the darker spectrum. Blue, he decided, raising a hand to draw attention. A nice, deep shade, petering on the edge of black. It would be a pity to destroy it. He smiled, a shy little curve in sharp contrast to the knowing smirk he wanted to use, and watched as the driver drew closer.

It was a man, it seemed, but’s that’s all he could really tell from this distance. He wondered if he was handsome, not that it mattered. Not really. The pick-up flashed an indicator, and Steve felt a moment of triumph. _Hooked him._

The driver pulled over, the gentle whirr of a lowering window allowing Steve to properly glimpse his ‘rescuer’. _Nice cheekbones,_ was his first thought, as he widened his eyes and blew lukewarm breath in a feeble attempt to return circulation to his hands.

The man’s gaze shifted between his flushed features and pitifully underdressed attire. He raised an eyebrow.

“Need a ride, dollface?”

 

_Xxx_

_What a dainty little thing,_ he mused, pulling the car over to the side of the road. _Easily breakable._ He hoped this one had fire, it was boring when they were all weak and pleading. He took a hand off the steering wheel, lowering the passenger-side window to get a good look at his hitch-hiker.

The poor thing looked cold, face flushed with what could be the edge of fever. And no wonder, dressed like that, a little blue sundress and white stockings. Fine for a midday stroll, he supposed, but hardly night wear.

Raising an eyebrow, he settled his gaze back on her eyes, wide and pleading. _Like a lost lamb._

“Need a ride, dollface?”

“Oh, _really?”_ Her voice was low and breathy, tinted with sarcasm. “ _Whatever_ gave it away.”

He smirked. _Snark was good, snark meant a challenge. “Well,_ I don’t know,” he drawled, “ _might_ have been that smoking wreck that must’ve been a car once. _Or maybe_ it’s the dame shivering her stockings off, outside my window.

“Old fashioned, are we?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Well, be a gentlemen and invite me in.”

He reached over and clicked the door open. “And here I was thinking I already had.”

She gave him a withering look as she climbed in. _“I can already tell you’re going to be a handful.”_

‘That’s what my Ma always said.”

She paused in brushing down her dress, material damp and clinging to her thighs. “A mama’s boy? _Do tell,_ Mr..?”

“James” He offered, shifting the gears and steering back onto the road.

She smiled, coy, but there was mirth in the blue of her eyes. “Sarah”

“So, Sarah, what led you to stranding yourself in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re assuming it was my fault.”

“Alone in the rain with only that fire-hazard for company and seemingly no backup plan? Sorry doll, don’t see how couldn’t have been.”

He expected her to get defensive, to bristle at the perceived insult. Instead, she laughed, a tinkling noise muffled by her hand.

He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“I was my boyfriend’s car!” she crowed, snickering, “And now he can’t visit his _fucking harem.”_

He whistled. “I sense a story here. How many?”

“Six, the sleazeball. It seemed a fitting punishment- he loved that death-trap.”

“Remind me to never get on _your_ bad side." _Seems like he’d found himself a firecracker. Good._

She smiled, toothy and sharp. “ _Trust me,_ you’ll know.”

 

_Xxx_

Steve smiled, he loved the vengeance on the boyfriend angle. “ _Trust me,_ you’ll know.”

It bred either respect, or lust. Both were conducive to his plans. Besides, it removed the car from the equation. He snickered again. _They always do underestimate a pretty girl._

He brushed a lock of the wig behind his ear, head faced forward as he surveyed the man in the driver’s seat. _James._ Such _expressive_ eyes had James. Icy. Cold _. They’d look beautiful as their light fades away._ He cut a nice figure too, from what was obvious through the loose fall of cloth.

The conversation wasn’t bad either. Perhaps, _perhaps_ , a little _fun_ was in order. Not for _too_ long, mind, the reveal of a certain… _asset_ oftentimes cut the entertainment short. How _tragic_. Oh well, those bastards deserved it.

Still, _patience_. Needed a few miles yet. _Or a few hundred._ But eventually. _Eventually._

_Xxx_

His passenger was being awful quiet. He spared a glance, quickly shifting his concentration back on the road. “Tired?”

“Hmm? Oh, a little. Ah, _James?_ ”

“Yeah?”

“Where are we headed?”

“Nowhere in particular, usually just follow wherever the road leads. Why? Somewhere you need to be?”

“… _No._ Not really. Nowhere that I want to be, anyway.”

Ah, running from something. _Probably that boyfriend of hers._ How very _convenient._ Actually, reminds him of-

“ _James_?”

“…Yeah?”

She lowers her face, hair slipping down to cover her features. “I wouldn’t usually…I mean, I don’t, _hmm_.” She looked up at him, slight blush on her cheeks. “Do you think, that maybe when your feel it’s time to stop, that-” She lowered her gaze, tucking a few strands of gold behind her ear. “Well, I haven’t since…well not in a while, but maybe. Maybe I could _help you_ to, well, to _rest_?”

There was a questioning lilt to the last words. It was a familiar situation, a familiar style.

_Honey-trap._ A well-executed one too, would’ve succeeded with most anyone else. _And she hadn’t even lied…_

He smirked, knowing she’d take it as an answer. “ _I didn’t think you were that kind of gal.”_

She giggled, hand loosely clasped to stifle it. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

_The kid had talent._ It was unpolished, and unrefined, but…with a bit guidance. _Maybe he should contact Natalia…_

First though, he had to be sure. _Let the dame show off her craft._

 

He let his lip stretch further. “Why not? _What have I to fear_?”

 

_Xxx_

Steve had to stop himself from grinning. _Oh, James. If only you knew._ He giggled again, sounding bashful, feigning surprise.

“Maybe I _bite?_ ”

James snorted. “Hard, I hope.”

“ _Oh?_ Are you sure?”

The look he sent Steve was playfully reprimanding. “Aren’t you the little _minx.”_

He arranged his features into an exaggerated pout. “Well, I guess if you don’t _want-”_

“No need to be _rash,_ babydoll.”

He grinned in the way he knew was particular alluring, twirling a few strands of the wig around his finger. “It’s decided then, when we stop in…?”

“Five miles.”

There was no need to pretend to be startled. “ _Only five?”_

“I’ve been driving all day, dollface, I think I could use a rest.”

Well, then. Time to reapply his make-up.

 

_Xxx_

_Very_ talented _._ But the set-up was only half the battle. _Let’s see your_ execution.

When he judged it far enough, he turned the car onto an open stretch along the edge of the road, letting his foot fall down onto the breaks. He turned, giving the young woman a once over.

“You sure you’re up for this.” She was, _obviously_ , but it was still polite to ask.

She blushed again, focusing her gaze on her hands, wringing them together. She was positively _beaming,_ the perfect picture of coy, but enthusiastic consent.

“ _Yeah..._ I’m sure _.”_

He gripped the lever, pushing his seat back as far as it would go. “Then that’s all I need to know.”

 

_Xxx_

He was giddy by the time he straddled James. His skin tingled, muscles twitching in anticipation. A heat was pooling in his gut, he could feel the blood pumping, a rushing in his ears as it filled his already swollen member. He shivered, envisioning the reaction in the other man’s eyes if he knew of the hardness held snug against his thigh. Would he be disgusted? Emasculated?

_Or maybe_ , he thought, leaning forward to pepper kisses along the expanse of the brunette’s throat. _Maybe - when he’s stiff, and trapped, and helpless - he’ll beg, like a good little cock-slut._

He could see it, in that moment, the blade of his knife at this man’s throat. Those cold, unfeeling eyes blown wide with lust and fear, eliciting shallow breaths. Erratic, frantic gasps as bravado gave way to terror. ‘ _What have you done to me, I can’t move, I can’t-’_

Salty liquid streaming a path down those lovely cheekbones, futile pleas falling from those sweet lips. _‘Please- I’ll do anything, just don’t, don’t-’_

Choked little sobs as he realised his fate was sealed. And that beautiful moment, when the light _fades away._

He bit down at the spot he’d been mouthing, stifling the groan that threatened to escape at the image. James hissed, wandering hands paused to grip tightly at Steve’s waist. There would be bruises there, he knew, one side more-so than the other. He leaned back, questioning.

“ _Your hand..?”_

“Metal. Lost the whole arm few years back.”                                         

“ _Can I?”_

He could feel the man’s whole body stiffen, before deliberately relaxing. His movements were jerky, either repressed emotion, or the toxin doing its work, as he pulled off the loose material of his shirt. It landed somewhere in the back, neither one caring as their gazes remained fixed on each other.

The arm raised slightly in a silent invitation, and he moved a hand from where he had been exploring the taunts muscles of the man’s chest. It was strangely intimate, the cold sensation of lightly vibrating metal beneath the pads of his fingers. That was a whirring he hadn’t noticed before, that seemed to accompany the shift of plating as James clenched and unclenched his hand.

He’d heard stories about this arm. He’d heard stories about this truck. So learned forward, and whispered in the shell of the Winter Soldier’s ear; _“It’s beautiful.”_

_Xxx_

There was something in his system, a neurotoxin or a paralysis. He was ninety percent sure it was in the lipstick. _Nat’s never gonna let me live this down._

Movement was difficult, sluggish, it wouldn’t be long before it cut off altogether. At least he could still breathe, for now anyway. He suspected it wouldn’t last. Technically, he could over-power the dame, find the antidote that was sure to be on her. He found he didn’t want to.

He clenched his hand. _Stupidity,_ chastised a voice in his head. It sounded a lot like Natasha. _You’ve gone soft._ Natasha. Natalia. The Widow. He needed to call her.

_“It’s beautiful.”_ A voice whispered in his ear. Sarah. Her name was probably not Sarah.

“ _Impressive, probably-not-Sarah_.”

She laughed, and he felt something hard press into his thigh. “It’s Steve, _actually._ ”

Steve. He tried it a few times. _Steve, Steeve._ Stevie. _Clever._ So very _cleve_ \- he needed to call Natasha.

“Who’s Natasha?”

“ _The Black Widow.”_

He couldn’t move. Breathing was hard, laboured. He needed to-to

“ _Gl-glovebox”,_ he managed. He was vaguely aware of Steve shifting. There might have been a pinprick. He passed out.


	2. Enter the Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it weird to be proud of a complete stranger for almost killing your mentor figure? Probably, but Natasha had passed that side of sanity a long time ago. It held her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed I added the kidnapping tag. Also, Clint's in this now.

Natasha was well aware that inviting the 6 foot, well-muscled blond guy she had been attempting to seduce then murder into her Lower Manhattan safe-house was a bad idea. She also didn’t care. All of her ‘ _work_ ’ of recent had started to feel, well, like _work_. It no longer held the intrigue, nor the forbidden allure of when she was young and starting out. Simply put, she was _bored._

_So,_ she thought, _one more night, maybe two, then we’ll have a sudden and abrupt career change. Or get caught by the feds. Whichever comes first._

She knew there were people on her tail. Mainly because she’d been sticking to a narrow hunting ground as of late, and they weren’t so incompetent as to not have come circling. They were a bit _obvious_ , however, what with the _questions_ at her regular haunts, and suspicious bulges under the well-cut cloth of passers-by.

They also seemed to have no idea who they were looking for. Oh sure, they were after the _Black Widow_ , but not once in her hearing (whether physically or through the slight static of a strategically placed wire-tap) had they managed a detailed and consistent profile. Basically what she had gleaned is they were after a woman. Probably.

The point being, when she saw the ex-mercenary type drowning his sorrows in one of her favourite bars, she ignored the sensible thing, and bought him a drink. He then proclaimed her his ‘ _bro for life’._ She smiled. He would do nicely.

Her opinion was revised half an hour later in a back alley, when he had attempted to disarm her after beginning an off-key rendition of Disney’s ‘ _I Can Show You the World’_.  He almost succeeded. He didn’t, but the almost was crucial. People didn’t normally get that far.

She contemplated the unconscious body beneath her and decided she was keeping him.

_Perhaps_ , she mused, ‘ _invited’ was a bit strong of a word._

 

Xxx

 

When James awoke, he would be the first to admit that he was surprised. He’d fully expected to be dead. Or at the very least, to remain dead.

“ _Urlk”_

“Very articulate.”

He turned, gratified to find that he could, and gazed blearily in the direction of Steve. He wanted to glare but couldn’t quite muster the energy.

“ _Mmph”_

“That’s nice. Hurry up, we’re meeting Tasha in two hours. We’ll get breakfast on the way.”

He blinked, thoughts swimming aimlessly through the haze created by the pounding in his head. Everything was sluggish, muggy in a way it hadn’t been the night previous. He supposed it was a side effect of being drugged. By Steve. Steve, who was apparently on a nickname basis with Natalia. And had tried to kill him.

_“I’m…alive?_ And… _Tasha_? _”_

Steve gave him the kind of look one would direct at a particularly dim-witted child.

“She called while you were out, said she had something interesting to show you. Also that you’re an idiot.”

James snorted. _Yes,_ that much was a given. “But, _Tasha?”_

“Told me to call her that. Apparently almost killing you makes us family.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head despairingly. Only Natalia would adopt family based on skillset. Actually, thinking on it she probably got that from him.

“Yeah, about that. _Why_ am I alive, again? Not that I mind really, I just got the impression you were gonna follow through.”

 

Xxx

 

Steve glanced sidelong at the man in the driver’s seat. The truth is he’d recognised the arm, but that wasn’t all. This man was a living legend, however, there was something lost behind those eyes. Something missing.

Human beings usually fought tooth and nail to cling to life, _James_ though. James had just accepted it. Been completely willing to let go. His last request had been directions to a slip a paper. A string of numbers too precious to be programmed into his phone.

There were only two reasons to give a complete stranger the number of an infamous killer. Revenge, or apprenticeship. James didn’t seem the type to take that kind of revenge. Natasha didn’t sound the kind to enact it.

In other words the famed Winter Soldier’s last act would have been to hone his killer’s skillset. It was _interesting_ to say the least.

“You intrigue me. It seemed a waste to lose that already. Besides, I didn’t much fancy facing Tasha with no bullet shield.”

This man had been alone too long. It was time to fix that. It might’ve helped that he was easy on the eyes.

 

Xxx

 

Clint Barton didn’t much appreciate being kidnapped. Mainly because his was aware enough to know that Agent Coulson was going to _kill him._ All he’d wanted was a couple nights off to see the sights, grab a few beers and mourn the passing of his dog, Lucky, before the start of his next mission (rumour had it he would be tracking the famed Black Widow- all the other guys had dug up entirely squat).

He had been pleasantly moping in a bar near midtown, when this kick-ass looking lady had offered to buy him a drink. Not one to say no to free things due to a fairly discontented childhood (the less said about, the better) he’d eagerly accepted, spouting nonsense the way one would in a drunken stupor.

He was not _that_ drunk, mind, but had long ago learned the benefit of playing the fool. In his line of work, and much of his life, there were advantages in being underestimated. Which was why, sometime later in a back alley a few streets down, his first instinct on seeing the gun was to sing. Loudly and obnoxiously, to both distract his assailant and catch the attention of passers-by.

It would have worked too, if he were not A: drugged, and B: rapidly suspecting his assailant was _the_ Black Widow, a woman who could probably kill him with a thought.

_So basically_ , thought Clint, furious with himself in a way he hadn’t been since the Carolina debacle of ’09, _I am trapped, as a hostage, in this leaky basement in an unknown part of the city, by the Black Widow for an unknown reason, and Agent Coulson is going to_ kill me.

 

Xxx

 

Was it weird to be proud of a complete stranger for almost killing your mentor figure? _Probably_ , but Natasha had passed that side of sanity a long time ago. It held her back. And Sarah sounded like a lovely girl with a deadly efficient neurotoxin, and the wits to know how to use it.

It was highly probable that Sarah was not her real name, but that hardly mattered. Introductions could be made over coffee, and the torturing of her new hostage. _Speaking of which_ , he ought to be awake by now, and this was an excellent opportunity to _get to know him a little._ She looked forward to the screams.

 

Xxx

 

They stopped for pancakes. Well actually, James moved his chair back into position, hand hovering loosely over the ignition key, debating whether or not to start the car, what with his lingering headache and black spots dancing across his vision. He wondered if that was normal. He asked as much.

Steve glanced at him, eyebrows scrunching in concern. “Well, _yes,_ but you probably shouldn’t drive. A few hours rest ought to help.”

James groaned. “But I just _slept_.” In truth he was reluctant to hand over the keys. There were too many memories associated with this car, too many successful kills to entrust it to anyone else. It was almost a part of him by now, certainly a part of his legacy. Besides, he didn’t much fancy moving.

“You were unconscious, there’s a difference.”

He wanted to argue, opened his mouth prepared to do just that.

“I guess if you _want_ to be late for Tasha.”

His lips tightened. That was a good point. When meeting Natalia, one shouldn’t be anything but punctual. Especially since he was already due for a lecture. Probably staring the words ‘ _suicidal’_ and ‘ _idiot’._ It was how she showed she cared.

He sighed. “ _Fine.”_

The clamber into the passenger seat was awkward to say the least. His muscles were stiff, reluctant in their response. He fell asleep almost instantly.

He awoke to deft hands lightly nudging him awake. “ _James…_ James you need to eat something. Need to get some liquids into you, flush the toxin out of your system.”

He blinked, squinted as the light filtered through his eyes. He could see this time, which was promising.

“ _You gonna look after me, baby-doll?_ ”

The hands stilled and Steve’s expression become unreadable. He wondered at this change and came to the conclusion that a grown man probably didn’t appreciate his ‘ _endearments’._ His eyes widened and he scrambled to apologise.

“I’m sorry, I-” Steve cut him off.

 

Xxx

 

He stiffened at the words. And here he was thinking they were on equal terms. He felt anger leak into his expression, into his tone before he’d even spoken.

“ _I thought it was just part of your act._ The names. You couldn’t possibly like-” He gestured, movements tight and abrupt. “- _this._ Not when you know that I’m-”

He stopped when he felt the cool metal of James’ thumb stroking down his cheek. He glanced down, surprised to find warmth in the ice of his eyes. Warmth and understanding. This close he could hear the mechanical whirring of James’ arm, could see the brittle edge to his smile.

“I know what it’s like to be different. To be shunned, forced to carve out your own little piece of the world.”

_It was funny,_ he reflected _, how something so powerful could seem so soft. Gentle. As if touching something precious._

“ _You’re beautiful_ , Stevie. I don’t care whether you’re a dame or a fella, you’ve got the cunning to rival Natalia on a good day, and the looks to tempt any man. She said it first, but I’ll say it now. You’re family, one of us from this day forward, and we take care of our own.”

His eyes itched, moisture pricking the corners. He leaned forward, buried his face in the other man’s shoulder. Strong arms moved up to envelope him, hold him close. Safe for the first time in many years.

“ _Thank you James.”_

_“Bucky._ Call me Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere, somehow, this story has developed a plot.


	3. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Winter Soldier was my mentor, and it seems he wishes for me to be yours. Attempted murder is a rite of passage, котенок. It’s how we prove our worth.”

“You’re late.”

Disapproval hung round her like a shroud, but Bucky knew her well enough to sense the worry and odd _mirth_ hidden beneath. He glanced sideways at Steve, whose features seemed to be carved into a mask, one that wouldn’t be out of place on a china doll. Nothing, not even reddened eyes, remained of the emotion from earlier.

“We got held up.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, gaze calculating. After a moment she gave and exaggerated sigh, a smirk gracing her lips.

“дурак.” She said fondly. “ _The things I do for family._ Come in, I’ve found us something fun.”

As they crossed the threshold her eyes cut to his companion, shrewd in a way she didn’t normally show. Steve met her gaze head on, and the corner of her lip tilted further. That was as good an indication as any that Natalia approved.

“You too, котенок, I’m expecting quite the story.”

 

Xxx

 

The Black Widow was _warmer_ , than he’d expected. Not that he knew what to expect, really. She was a professional of a far more elusive kind than the Winter Soldier, less of a ghost, more of a creature. His was a story conveyed in whispered superstitions. Camp fire tales told in rest stops along the highways, echoed in the words of travellers. Words, that while not truly believed, still cause a cold shiver down your spine in the dead of night.

But the Widow was a legend more akin to the _Jorōgumo_ , yokai of Japanese myth. Spider-women who used their appearance to lure young men into their web. A legacy built on the bones on foolish youth- and it was from her that Steve drew much of his inspiration. So forgive his caution, but you didn’t get so far down this blood-drenched path by being quick to trust.

He knew he was being granted something special in his invitation into this place, but he was still uncertain that family would be his boon. It was something he craved, that kind of intimacy, so he was hesitant to believe it could be true, even with his little heart to heart with James earlier. Or with _Bucky,_ as he now knew to call him. Bucky, who he was perhaps a little too attached to, who had piqued his interest enough to stop a kill. Probably not the smartest move on his part, but nowhere near as impulsive as _answering that phone._

 

Xxx

 

_Steve was in a state of shock. He’d almost killed the Winter Soldier. For some reason he_ hadn’t _killed the Winter Soldier. He looked at the empty syringe in his hand and let out a fractured laugh. This couldn’t be happening. He was an_ amateur, _he knew that. He shouldn’t have had this opportunity. An opportunity he had failed?_

_He stilled, breathing deep in an effort to get his bearings. No, there was much he could learn from a myth made flesh. It was a risk keeping him alive, but. He glanced down at James’ unconscious form. But perhaps it would prove worth it._

_The adrenaline was fading now, heart rate returning to something that could be considered normal. Or normal for_ him, _anyway. He shook his head. Not the time. He need to think, determine the best course of action._

_The Soldier had mentioned something about the Black Widow. He’d said her name was **Natasha**. From the familiarity, it was clear they held some sort of contact. But could this be of any use to _ Steve _?_

_And there was something else. Before he’d passed out, James’ last words had been ‘ **Glovebox’**_. _What could be so important- he learned back over to the passenger side, popping the compartment open. There was a phone, a burner probably, cheap looking thing that it was, and something else. A slip of paper. A post-it note by the looks of it, stuck half-hazardly to its back. The moonlight was barely enough to make it out, but it seemed like a string of numbers._

_He bit his lip, mind racing. It didn’t make any_ sense. _This man, a hardened killer, had done nothing to deter his fate. Instead, he’d gone out of his way to congratulate Steve. And the phone number, was he meant to call-? Who? Was it the Widow? And why? It was true his style was similar but. **No.** No it wasn’t possible, there was no way. Had he intended?_

_He swallowed. His mouth felt thick, as though it was stuffed with cotton wool. This day had taken a turn for the surreal. He was starting to wonder if it were just a dream. He flicked on the light, eyes taking in the digits again and again until he’d committed them to memory. No dream was this realistic. No dream could replicate the feel of paper between his figures, the slightly stale smell of recycled air. The gentle whirr of the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. This was real. So what to do with it._

_He inhaled, exhaled. Tried to concentrate past the butterflies in his stomach. For now he would wait. For now-_

_**brrp**_

_**brrp**_

**_brrp_ **

**_brrp_ **

**_brrp_ **

_Startled, he fell back. Stared with growing apprehension at the device in the glovebox. He reached out, tentatively held it in the palm of his hand. He should be wearing gloves. He should- it was the number. The **same** number. He gulped, a lump forming in his throat. Breathed deep, and answered._

_“ **Hello?”** There was a pause._

**_“Dead or unconscious?”_ **

**_“I’m sorry?”_ **

**_“He never lets anyone near this phone, he’s not that careless. So it follows,_ ** _dead or unconscious **.”**_

**_“Um. Unconscious. You wouldn’t happen to be_ ** _Natasha, **would you?”** This time the silence was longer._

**_“Start from the beginning. How did you come to be in his truck.”_ **

**_“He picked me up. Hitchhiking.”_ **

**_“And how long until you tried to kill him.”_ **

**_“I-”_ **

**_“How long.”_ **

**_“Few hours. I was patient.”_ **

**_“Good. Honey-trap wasn’t it? Paralysis, anaesthetic or poison?”_ ** _Steve was confused, didn’t understand the matter-of-fact tone, or the sudden praise. It wasn’t logical, didn’t make sense._

**_“Neurotoxin. In my lipstick.”_ **

**_“Hmm. And you’ve given him the antidote.”_ **

**_“…Yeah.”_ **

**_“Why?”_ **

**_“What?”_ **

**_“Why would you do that?”_ ** _She sounded genuinely curious. And, for some reason, he wanted to answer. Wanted to put how he felt into words._

**_“It’s just…too many things didn’t make sense. Thinking back on it, he must have known. But he didn’t do anything to stop me. I-I think he wanted me to call you.”_ **

**“дурак. _He know well enough by now that kittens have claws. I think you’ve just been adopted,_ котенок**. **_I’ve always wanted siblings.”_** _Steve was gobsmacked._

**_“I’m sorry?”_ **

**_“The Winter Soldier was my mentor, and it seems he wishes for me to be yours. Attempted murder is a rite of passage,_ котенок. It’s how we prove our worth.”**

_He licked his lips. **“And I have proved it?”**_

**_“You wouldn’t be talking to me if you hadn’t. Now, the reason I called. How long do you think until he wakes? I’ve found us something interesting.”_ **

**_“At that dosage? I’m not- probably about 5, 6 hours?”_ **

**_“Good. Get to my place about 10, then. He knows the way. What can I call you,_ котенок _?_**

**_“Ah. Sarah. I- Thank you.”_ **

**_“No need to thank me, Sarah. And call me Tasha- we’re family after all. You, me_ and _the idiot.”_**

****

Xxx

He couldn’t hear anything, a fact that, while in itself wasn’t particularly unusual, didn’t usually occur because someone had _stolen his hearing aids. And crushed them._ Yeah, sure, that’d had tracking tech, but was that any reason to _destroy his hearing aids._ He _needed_ those. To, you know, _hear_.

Okay, so maybe he was a little too focused on the destruction of his property considering the _torture_. But those things were expensive! He was allowed to be petty. It took his concentration away from his broken fingers. Seven of them. He hoped they got splinted, it’d be hard to shoot otherwise.

But he’d had worse. Much worse. He’d say as much to Phil when he got there. And he _would get_ there. He was Phil _Fucking_ Coulson, he could do anything. So Clint just had to wait. In the dark. Alone. Without his hearing aids.

 

Xxx

 

She couldn’t help the smile. It was more of a smirk, really, and she could have hidden it if she truly wished. But she sensed in this case it was better to be more obvious in her amusement- Sarah didn’t really know how to read her stoicism just yet. Besides, it had the added bonus of getting on James’ nerves.

His irritation, of course, was all for show. He seemed, _happier_ , then he had been in a long time, like he had found something lost. Her gaze found Sarah’s again. _Good._ It was far too difficult to set your serial killer ex and mentor up on dates, even if he weren’t practically nomadic.

“ _So._ You two had fun.”

James’ eyes shifted once more to the young blonde, who dipped her head. Taking it as permission, James replied.

“I wouldn’t say fun, exactly. But we got a few things sorted.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure. Tea?”

She stood up, moved to where the kettle had boiled.

“Coffee for me. The usual.” His Brooklyn drawl was more pronounced than usual. He _must_ be in a good mood.

“And for you, Sarah?”

She started, Adam’s apple bobbing a few times as she swallowed.

“I-ah, it’s Steve, actually.”

“He/him pronouns then?”

Steve blinked a few times as if no one had ever thought to ask this.

“ _Yeah._ I’m male, I just prefer-” He gestured.

“Say no more. We’re murderers, not misogynists. There’s nothing wrong with liking dresses, I like them myself on the odd occasion.” She leaned forward as if bestowing a secret. “And get James to show you the _heels_. I remember this one night where-”

“Don’t listen to her, doll, she’s just an old maid full of stories.”

The corners of her lips sharpened. “Oh the stories I could _tell._ ” She winked. “You’ve got your hands full with this one, котенок. Now, tea or coffee.”

“Tea, two sugars.”

She nodded, preparing the drinks and setting them on the table. She wrapped her hand around her mug and grinned her sharp smile.

“Anyone else care to guess what I have in the basement?”

 

Xxx

 

Agent Phil Coulson was worried. He had no particular reason to be worried. Not yet. Not really. But he’d stopped by to see Barton, determine how he was faring in the wake of his dog’s death. He’d loved that thing, flea-bitten, one eyed mutt. Fed it _pizza_ of all things. (Privately, Phil was certain this is what had killed it the end.) But it’d lived a good ten years, got its master through many a trial. Few people could match the tragedy of Clint Barton’s youth.

But anyway, Phil was worried. Because Barton wasn’t at the safe house. And neither was his phone. It was probably nothing, in all likelihood the archer had probably gone out to grab a couple drinks, or something of that ilk. But this was _Barton_ , and the man was a trouble magnet. Phil still had nightmares about Carolina. And Kiev. And _Budapest._

He wondered if the marksmen was aware that he’d tracked the Black Widow _before._ Or been tracked _by_. What she’d been doing in Budapest, Phil never knew. It hadn’t been important to the mission. It had still managed to derail it.

Phil was against using Barton this time. But, as Fury had pointed out, he was their best asset. There was a problem, however. No matter how oblivious Barton was, he and the Widow had _history._

Xxx

 

The lights flicked on, and Clint blinked a few times. Tried to focus on the lip movements of his _guests,_ sarcasm intended.

_“Is that..?”_ The newcomer was tall. Dark hair. Metal arm. _Winter Soldier._

He wasn't scared. _Much._

“ _Yes._ Wondered straight into my web.”

The Black Widow was a sadist, he decided. She seemed to take a sick pleasure in enunciating her words. 

“котенок, allow me to introduce _Clint Barton. The Amazing_ _Hawkeye._ ”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am sorry about the wait. It's been a rough month for me, mental illness taking its toll. Hopefully I'll be able to keep a more regular update schedule, but, we'll see. In the mean time I should have another story for you in about a week. Just a one-shot, this time. It's about an incubus, and it's called Love, Lust & Desire.  
> I've had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy it too.  
> Anyway, that's all for now. Take care. Look after yourselves. Find happiness in the moments.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a few years so, let me know what you think?  
> Likes, dislikes, possible grammar errors I missed, any commentary is very much appreciated.


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